the drunk detective
by PandaInDisguise
Summary: oneshot. freya is woken up in the middle of the night to smashing and crashing, she thinks its john, but is so wrong...


_**A/N this was written by my friend, she originally came up with Freya, Louise and Gina! Also, Tracy is mentioned in this story, and she is in charge of the home that Freya, Louise and Gina were all in, so that was how they met and became friends! So, enough of my babbling, on with the story! ;D**_

The drunk detective

It was dark, that's all I knew when I first woke up. Dark, with a series of yells and crashes, as if someone was falling over repeatedly.

I thought Sherlock and John would be asleep at half past two in the morning; Louise was snoring her head off and muttering in her sleep (I'd finally persuaded Tracy and Sherlock to let her sleep over).

I opened my bedroom door a bit. It was surprising that I could fit just one person in here, let alone two, my new room was so tiny. But it worked for me.

As I opened it, I nearly had my eye taken out by a bottle. I was more shocked to find out who was holding it rather than why they had it.

"JO- wait, what?" I asked as a pale-faced (but with reddish eyes and a sweaty forehead) Sherlock fell into the wall and dropped the bottle, smashing it. I'd expected John to have come back spannered from an Army party or something, but he was perfectly sober.

"I don't know how, or why, he got this, but he's completely pissed." John said as we tried to drag Sherlock up onto his feet.

"Whu… FREYA!" Sherlock yelled happily (well, as happily as you can get if you're Sherlock Holmes), probably waking half the block up and deafening me.

"Hi, Shirley." I croaked, patting his arm.

"Wha' y'doin' up a' dis time?" he said. His speech was very slurred; his body obviously didn't react well to alcohol. I picked up the neck and half the base of the bottle. Jack Daniels. Oh dear. Then, Louise's head appeared from behind the doorframe of my bedroom.

"What's up wi' him?"

"Spannered." I told her. "Gimme a hand, will you?" I asked, showing her the broken bottle.

"What, clean up after him? Not happenin'."

"Louise!"

"Fine, not happenin' yet, then. Happenin' when we get him somewhere where he won't kill anybody." she replied, helping me and John shove Sherlock onto the sofa. He was pretending to play his violin, and badly too.

"Duh-duh-duuuuuh, da-na-na-na-na NUH! NUH! NUH!" he yelled. I don't even know what song it was meant to be. As he flourished his imaginary bow over the imaginary strings one last time, John pretended to take them off him.

"NO, JOHN! That's my violin! Wannit baaack!" he wailed childishly.

"No violin until you're sober." John said sternly. I shoved the real one on top of some books so he wouldn't find it. Louise staggered over to the chair and flopped herself onto it.

"How long d'you reckon it'll teck to ger' him sober?" she asked John.

"Probably a good night's sleep, although I can guarantee a massive hangover." he replied.

"Right." Louise said, beginning to doze off again. I sat on the arm of the sofa, next to Sherlock's head. He poked me with a long bony finger.

"Yep?"

"Wha' time'zit?"

"About quart' to three."

"Thass early."

"I know. How did you get hold o' that whisky, anyway?"

"Bored. Wanted a kick."

"Bloody hell, Sherlock. If this is the extent of your boredom, I wonder what the extent of your anger is." I said, rubbing my eyes.

"I remember the last time he got drunk. He was falling all over the place and banging on about the Queen," John said, coming in from the kitchen with a mug.

"MYCROFT FANCIES HER!" Sherlock shouted, waving his arms about and nearly knocking me off my perch.

"He does not, you doof." Louise said bluntly.

"Yess'ee does!"

"How does he?"

"'Cause… 'Cause I know everything." Sherlock declared. This drink-talk was hilarious. I sat there laughing to myself. Then, he did a Mother Grandma.

"I've always thought the best folk music comes from the Dutch." he yawned, stretching out his arms and yet again nearly tipping me off the sofa arm. John was drinking a mug of something hot (tea by the look of it, because the smell of coffee was absent and we didn't have any hot chocolate anyway; we never did), just laughing at me as I tried to make Sherlock fold his arms to prevent him hitting anyone.

"Geddoff," he said, like an embarrassed five-year-old.

"Sherlock, you're gonna hit me if you're not careful. And you can stop grinnin' like the bloody Cheshire cat on steroids, John."

"I'm not grinning! I'm laughing." John replied, jokingly matter-of-factly. I put two fingers up at him, then looked at Louise. There was one of my whiteboard pens on the cabinet next to her, and Sherlock was about to fall asleep. She woke up just in time.

"Louise!" I whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Pass us that pen."

"Why?"

"Well, he's drunk and sleepy, and I've never drawn on somebody's face while they're asleep before." I grinned wickedly. She nodded, catching on, and chucked it me. Black; even better. I could draw a Hitler 'tache on him now! I decided not to, though. He wasn't a Nazi kind of guy. I looked at John.

"What do you think I should draw on him?"

"Something rude?" he suggested, trying not to laugh while drinking his supposed tea.

"Well, yeah, but I mean more specifically." I said.

"Draw a fancy 'tache and a goatee!" Louise said. I nodded.

"Reight, then!" As I drew the outline of the moustache, Sherlock snorted so hard in his sleep that he snotted all over the back of my hand. Louise and John collapsed with silent laughter as I grimaced and wiped my hand on Sherlock's hair as payback. I went back to drawing him the moustache, which turned into _Mario's_, so I didn't bother with the goatee. I then fetched Louise's red _Mario_ cosplay hat and put it on him. I coloured the moustache in and then I was done! We all went back to bed and started giggling through the night. Tomorrow's results would be interesting… :D

"FREYA!"  
I woke up with a start. Oh dear; Sherlock wasn't happy. I shakily walked into the lounge, preparing myself for a huge rant. There was a tall, skinny, curly-haired, extremely put out Mario in a saliva-stained purple shirt and black trousers. I tried to stifle a laugh.

"May I ask who did this?"

"Me." I admitted. He gave me an overly serious look. Then, we burst out laughing. Sherlock pulled me into an awkward hug, letting go about a millisecond after.

"Good work; you have art skills, and this is something I'll keep in mind for a certain Detective Inspector working at Scotland Yard I know." he smiled, with a glint of mischief in his eyes. I gave him a high five.

"If you need creative ideas, I'm your girl." I grinned.

"Well, I've just been contemplating whether to take a case concerning a book by Charles Darwin, who, as you may know, had an impressive beard, so the foundations of that could be drawn on in whiteboard pen…" Sherlock suggested, his face twisting into a wicked grin now. I laughed and lightly punched him on the arm.

"Maybe… Or you could just go for a classic."

"Which is?"

"Hitler moustache?" I suggested. After about a second, we burst out laughing. John and Louise entered, looking pretty confused as to why!

THE END

_**Please review!thanks for reading :)**_


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